Black Cat and the Accidental Angel (Black Cat Mysteries Book 3) (8 page)

John jerked his head, his pupils like pinpoints, his eyebrows drawn together. His clenched fists spoke volumes of his intentions. No wonder Angel ran under the table.

“Not personal?” The veins in John’s forehead throbbed. “Just exactly what would make it personal? It’s my home. I’ve done everything I can think of to meet my end of the bargain. Now, leave before I forget myself and do something you’ll regret!” He yanked open the front door.

Mr. Adams grabbed his briefcase. “I’m sorry you feel that way, but, don’t for a minute, think this is over…” He scurried out, looking back over his shoulder.

Black Cat leaped to the top of the sofa and peered out the window.

Mr. Adams jumped in his car, slammed the door and started the engine. Gravel spewed from beneath his wheels as his car barreled down the driveway. He turned onto the county road and roared out of sight. Mr. Adams was gone, but, without a doubt—he’d be back.

Chapter Eight

N
ot a bird twittered. Not even a hint of breeze stirred the leaves as Black Cat’s gaze followed Mr. Adams down the driveway. He shivered, chilled to the bone. Mr. Adams’s threat of eviction seeped through the room like a damp fog.

John slammed the front door, picked up the overturned chair and sat at the kitchen table. His shoulders slumped. He pounded one fist into the other.

Angel lowered her ears and skittered from beneath the table to the blanket beside the stove.

Black Cat hurried to her side. “Did they scare you, dear-heart?”

“Did you see the look on John’s face? I thought he was going to punch the banker.” She glanced wide-eyed toward John, sitting with his head in his hands.

“Any man might react the same way. He’s lived here all his life. He can’t lose his home without being upset, no matter whose fault it is. Where would he and Cindy go?”

“I don’t understand how Mr. Adams can take away the ranch.” She tapped the blanket with her golden paw.

“It’s not really like—”

The door of Cindy’s room inched open and she peeked out. She crept to her father and patted his hand. He looked more like the child and she, the parent, comforting him. “Don’t worry, Daddy. Everything will be okay.”

John slid his arm around her shoulder. He nodded, but his smile was grim and forced.

“Angel, let’s get out of here. I hate seeing them so sad.” Black Cat tiptoed to the front door, reached up and scratched at the handle.
Meow!

Angel ambled toward the door, her back to the couch. “Let’s stare at the door. Do you think they’ll understand? Living with a properly trained
person
makes life so much easier.” She sat beside Black Cat, her eyes riveted at the doorknob.

Cindy jumped up from the sofa and opened the door. “Do you guys need to go out, Black Cat? Now, don’t get lost again.”

Good.
The child was learning fast. Too bad they wouldn’t be here long enough to fully train John, but no time. They had to get home. Maybe tomorrow?

Black Cat scooted onto the porch with Angel close behind. Just outside, he stopped short and sniffed. The hair on his neck stood on end. A peculiar scent drifted through the trees and circled the porch rails. He sniffed again. “Intriguing. What is that?”

Angel tipped up her nose. “Exotic aroma, rich but evocative, with a palate-pleasing bouquet… Shall we?”

They stole across the yard, one hesitant step at a time, toward the shed. The scent grew stronger. Beyond the outbuilding, an eight-foot high chain link enclosure rose skyward, where huge long-necked creatures covered with coarse feathers milled around inside.

Black Cat crouched, muscles taunt, hair atop his neck doing the
cucaracha
.
Yikes!
These creatures couldn’t be the
birds
Cindy mentioned. Birds weren’t six feet tall. Birds were black or blue or light tan, preferably with red heads and…and…little.

Angel dropped to the ground, her tail bushed out like a porcupine. She shook her head. “I don’t think those things are chickens.”

Black Cat stared at the creatures beyond the fence. “Do ya think?”

He scanned the enclosure from left to right and then crept toward the wire. Two Emus approached the fence, emitting a deep-throated drumming sound.
Yark
…
Yark
…
Yonk
…
Yonk!
The mamas!

One of the six-foot tall critters danced to the fence and stuck out her long greenish blue neck.
Yark! Yark! Yark!
She turned her huge eye toward the wire, focusing a paralyzing glare at Black Cat. Her ugly face ended in a pointy beak that could easily pick out a cat’s eye. Thick brown feathers covered a rotund body drooping over long skinny yellow legs. Three-toed feet ended in claws sharp enough to rip a cat to shreds.
Holy-moly!
So, that’s an Emu!

In the center of the yard, several large males crouched over a pathetic pile of grass spread atop a few random sticks. Dark green eggs peeked out from under the papa Emu’s feet. Was this what served as a nest?

Angel sidled closer and dropped to the ground beside Black Cat.

“John said he thought a fox stole Gilbert’s eggs. How could a fox get through this fence?” Black Cat craned his neck up toward the top of the wire. “It’s too high to climb.”

Angel tossed her head. “My dear, sometimes it amazes me how dense the male species, be it cat or man.” She stepped back a safe distance from the enclosure and licked her shoulder. “Isn’t it obvious? Our thief wasn’t a fox or any other four-legged creature. A human opened the gate, stole the eggs and closed the gate behind him. John has more problems than overdue bank payments and taxes.” She nodded back toward the house.

Black Cat whipped his head around. “How did you reach that conclusion?” He drew his whiskers back. It was one thing for her to keep secrets about his past. Now, she had a far-fetched conspiracy theory, based on eggs missing from a nest? She was down-right exasperating! But, cute as a button.

“Think about it. John said he thought a fox had climbed the fence. That’s not possible. The only way in is through the gate and it’s still latched. And, yet, the eggs have vanished.”

“I didn’t think of that.”

“Apparently, neither did John. Whereas, the appalling poultry are accustomed to a man entering the enclosure. Therefore, it had to be a man. It’s not rocket science.” She licked her foot and drew it over her ear, then waddled down the path toward the vineyard.

“Makes sense the way you explain it.” Black Cat paused to sniff a shrub. He drew in a breath and bared his teeth. Some animal had left its scent on the leaves. He scanned left and right. Whatever had passed this way was long gone. They strolled on, circling the far side of the Emu enclosure.

“Oh! You mentioned that John could lose the ranch.” Angel stopped and turned back. “How can the bank take away land?”

“It’s just called
losing the ranch
. If John can’t make his loan payments, they’ll make him and Cindy move away.”

Angel’s eyes darkened, as her pupils grew wide. “How do you know about these things? I thought you had amnesia?”

Black Cat shrugged. Good question. Amnesia must affect the mind in different ways. Like knowing how to walk and talk and which way is north and about finances, but not being able to remember your own name. Frustrating at best, and frightening. Did one ever recover from amnesia and remember everything? Would he ever remember his family and former life? Why wouldn’t Angel answer any of his questions about his past?

Yark! Yark! Yonk!
The mama Emus stalked toward the fence again. He backed away, caution being the better part of valor when dealing with a six-foot-tall bird. “Let’s leave the beasties and go for a walk.”

Angel trailed beside him, headed toward the vineyard. “We should try and come up with a plan to help John.”

“What did you have in mind?” Black Cat glanced toward Angel.

“I’ve been thinking. There must be a reason we came here. I think we’re supposed to help John save the ranch. Perhaps that’s part of my assignment.”

“Assignment? That’s just crazy talk. We don’t have time to get involved in John’s problems. We have to get home.”

Angel pointed her nose toward the tallest pine tree and closed her eyes. “You know what? I don’t see it that way at all. I’m not stepping one paw off this ranch until I’m sure John and Cindy are alright.”

Now, what in the world could she mean by
assignment
? She made it sound like a secret mission. Black Cat rolled his eyes. Big-hearted intentions were always a stumbling block in the face of logic. “We’ll give it a few days and see what happens. Then we have to leave. That’s it, my final word on the subject.”

“Who died and made you King?” Angel huffed down the path.

“Just sayin’…” He lowered his ears and hurried after her, stepping carefully over the stickers.

The trail beyond the bird enclosure moved past a group of trees. Blue jays, robins and brown sparrows with red heads twittered and hopped through cedars, pines, and oak trees—behaving like
real birds
, unlike John’s creatures in the enclosure.

Just past the trees, immature grape vines came into view. Rows of wires crawled along the ground covered by young plants—shades of green and yellow against a backdrop of tall pine trees in the distance. At the end of each row, stacks of blackened stumps reached jagged fingers skyward.

“Look there. That’s all that’s left of John’s father’s vineyard.” Angel stopped to stare.

“Spooky looking, isn’t it?”

At the edge of the closest row of grapes, a ground squirrel popped from a hole and streaked toward the tree line. “Squirrel! Catch it!” Black Cat raced past the wires, ducked between the poles and the vines, hopped over rocks and through thickets of grass. He skidded to a stop as the squirrel plunged into its hole. He flopped onto the grass, breathing hard, his sides heaving.

Angel sauntered up to him. “I hope you did that for the exercise. They never run like that unless there’s a hole near enough to jump into. Back on the ranch, we couldn’t ever—”

“There! You said it again. Is that where we lived? On a ranch?”

Angel ducked her head. “
Um
… Do you remember a ranch?” She tipped her head and swished her tail.

“I remember a little girl and a pretty lady and a house with purple flowers on the porch. At least, I think I remember, or maybe I dreamed it. Was it real? The house on the ranch?”

She turned away, avoiding his eyes.

“Why won’t you tell me, Angel? Tell me my name and where we come from.”

She shook her head. “I can’t. I made a promise. Please don’t ask me. If I tell…” She touched him with her paw and licked the top of his head.

He had so many questions and she had all the answers. A lump the size of coal lodged in his throat. He swallowed and then ducked his head. “Why shouldn’t you tell? It doesn’t make sense. Are my
persons
dead? Is that it? We can’t ever go home again, can we?”

She shook her head. “Perhaps, one day we can. I wasn’t told. But, it’s really nice here.” She looked up at the trees and then toward the vineyard. “Would it be so bad, living here with Cindy and John?”

He sighed. He couldn’t
make
her tell her secrets. He had to trust her. “It is nice, but how long will it last? If John loses the ranch and has to move away, I doubt he could take us with him.”

She shrugged. “There, see? You agree. It’s in our own best interest to help John find a way to keep the ranch.”

Wasn’t that just like feminine logic? If circumstances get in the way of your goal, change the goal. “Just how are we supposed to do that? Hello! We’re cats!”

“I’m not sure right now. I have a feeling we’re exactly where we’re supposed to be. If I’m right, we will find a way… Listen.” She cocked her head. “I hear water. There’s a creek back in those trees. Race you…”

She took off running.

He raced along behind. What a pretty picture they made—a splash of gold, and a black and white streak sprinting through the green grass. Insects and birds fell silent as they bounded across the field. The chase ended at a creek rushing down the hillside. Water, fed from some mountain stream high in the Sierras raced downhill, tumbling over moss-covered rocks. Shrubs bursting with yellow flowers hung over the riverbank, their branches trailing into the water. From time to time, a petal would tumble off and float down river.

Black Cat’s gaze followed the petal until it disappeared into a semicircle of rocks along the embankment. There, the petal gently swirled and came to rest against a dozen other petals, lining the water’s edge, like foam on a root beer soda. Tiny fish flitted through these gentle pools, just beneath the surface, sometimes stirring the sparkling sand.